


Moon Over Hudson Street

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-24
Updated: 2004-01-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Rachel Ellenstein is 22 years old when she brings an Immortal home with her, not knowing who he is...





	Moon Over Hudson Street

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Moon Over Hudson Street by Ammaletu

  
  


_Moon Over Hudson Street_

By Ammaletu 

rating: only some marginal violence   
characters: Connor MacLeod, Rachel Ellenstein, Benjamin Adams   
summary: Rachel Ellenstein is 22 years old when she brings an Immortal home with her, not knowing who he is... 

* * *

_New York, 1955_

Connor moved slowly to the left, the Katana constantly pointed at his foe. For twelve years he had been able to avoid this, for twelve long years he had kept the Game away from his home. Rachel's life shouldn't be jeopardized by the Immortals. But now, on this day... 

"Rachel!" he barked at her, more sharply than he had intended to. "Come over here!" Connor knew situations like this, he had gone through them often enough. A mortal trapped between two sword fighters - it was a dangerous setting. But the question was not if someone would die, only who. One head would roll... 

* * *

Mrs. Morgan carefully put the pile of books down on the table. She heard Rachel approaching behind her and took hold of her pile when it started to get out of balance. "Don't overstrain yourself, darling," she criticized cordially and Rachel gave her an excusatory smile. Then Rachel began to fill out index cards for the newly purchased books so that they could be entered into the catalogue soon. 

"Isn't it awfully boring here?" a familiar voice interrupted her work. Rachel looked up and saw Elizabeth who, with a bag over her shoulder, leaned against Rachel's desk and grinned at her. From further down the room, Doro waved at her while browsing through a book. 

"You shouldn't bring that into the reading room," Rachel said and pointed to the bag. Then she smiled too. "And no, it isn't boring at all. You know I love books." 

Elizabeth looked around her and grimaced. "Would be too dull for me, sitting half the day in the library. I'll never understand why you do it. I mean, your old man is rich enough, you don't need the money." 

Doro came over to them. She had blond hair like Rachel, but hers fell down her back in a long mane. She laughed and pointed over her shoulder to the reading area. "I know why Rachel is working here. So many cute guys to admire." 

"You are silly," Rachel accused her, but she was grinning too. At this moment they were interrupted by someone clearing his throat. A man stood in front of her desk. He wore his dark hair short, and she estimated his age as early thirties. For a moment, Rachel found herself staring at his striking nose. 

"Excuse me for bothering you but I need some information," he addressed her. Somehow he looked good, Rachel decided. 

"I am at the right place here, am I not?" he added after some seconds. "At least your sign says 'information'." He pointed at Rachel's desk and looked at her. The other girls couldn't suppress a loud snicker, but a grim glance from Mrs. Morgan silenced them. Rachel pulled herself together. "Yes, of course. How can I help you?" 

"Well, you see, I'm looking into some special aspects of the Frankish empire, and I need a certain book. I was told that I could find it in this library, but it isn't at its position on the shelf." 

Rachel stood up and said: "No problem, we'll find it. Do you know the exact title of the book?" 

When she came past Elizabeth, she heard her quietly but vigorously whispering: "Chat him up!" Rachel shooed her away with a wave and turned to the man again. Whether he looked good or not, he definitely was charming. 

* * *

"Wulfoald," he mumbled. Yes, this was definitely a clue. The scarce descriptions he had found sounded a lot like Odolff, and Mayor of the Palace in Austrasia, that was a position that Odolff surely would have fancied. He knew the circumstances in the Frankish realms back then, and he still thought a pit of snakes was more peaceful. 

He sighed and wearily ran his hand over his forehead. The text was nice, but it didn't really get him anywhere. The various sources differed a lot; some mentioned Wulfoald the last time after the assassination of Childerich II, others still after the death of Childerich's successor Dagobert II. Either way, the just recently found trace of his old enemy Odolff got lost in the mists of time after only a few years again. Three days of research and no actual result... 

At this moment he noticed a pleasant fragrance and someone put down a cup of coffee in front of him. As he looked up, he saw the girl from the information desk. 

"How did I earn this?" he asked and thankfully sipped at the coffee. 

"Oh, I thought you might use one. You have been working here the whole day." 

"You thought absolutely right. Thank you," he replied. 

Rachel curiously looked at the shambles of books and notes. "Is the book helpful?" 

He nodded, although not very enthusiastically. "A little bit. But the texts from the early Middle Ages are rarely as accurate as one would wish them to be. Actually, I'd need a copy of the _Historia Francorum_ now to check some things." 

Rachel thought about that momentarily, then she said: "I think I can get you one." 

"Really?" He was surprised. "I didn't find it in the catalogue." 

"No, I didn't mean the library," she replied. "My father is very interested in history. He has a large collection of old books, and I particularly remember an omnibus volume with historic sources. The _Historia Francorum_ should be a part of it. I can bring it with me tomorrow." 

"Now that would be very kind of you," he said, but at this moment they were interrupted. Mrs. Morgan entered the small chamber situated next to the reading room and approached Rachel. She briefly hugged her. "All my best wishes, Rachel!" she said. "You really could have said something this morning. Your two fellow students just told me that today is your birthday. Of course you can go earlier if you want." 

Saying that, she grabbed the coffee and swept out of the room with a reproachful "Not near the books!". Rachel turned back and whispered, with a last glance to the retreating coffee cup: "I'm sorry!" 

"It's ok." He shut the book, stood up and offered her his hand. "I, of course, second the congratulations," he said. "My name is Benjamin. Benjamin Adams." 

Rachel took his hand and introduced herself, too: "Rachel Ellenstein." 

"Ellenstein..." he echoed. "Did your family own a trade kontor in Amsterdam?" 

Rachel was surprised. "In Den Hag, but how did you know this? It ceased to exist more than a hundred years ago." 

"Well," he answered, "I studied Dutch history a little." 

For a moment the thought of her former homeland sneaked through her mind, the thought of her lost family, but she quickly suppressed it. This was not the right time for painful memories. 

"Ms. Ellenstein," Methos began, "I'm curious whether you are as hungry as I am. You were here all day too." 

"Yes, I am indeed." Rachel smiled, glad about the distraction. 

"So, I'd suggest you accept the offer of the amiable Mrs. Morgan and pack it in for today. Two streets away is a fairly good Greek restaurant. I'm inviting you." 

Rachel's smile grew wider; this was just crazy. This Mr. Adams was easily seven years older than herself and he came across so charming and gentleman-like. And now he was inviting her for dinner. Elizabeth and Doro would go green with envy over this. 

* * *

"And then she laughed so loudly that the palace walls were trembling. No really, it sounded a bit like a hyena." 

Rachel laughed. "How do you know that? I always thought historians would depict their monarchs as positively as possible." 

Methos slightly coughed. "Oh, there exist accounts of eye witnesses." 

They turned into Hudson Street and Rachel headed for number 1182. "Well, there we are. And now that you're already here, I'll get you the book." She searched a key out of her handbag and unlocked the door. "Come along!" 

Cheerfully, she jumped up the three steps to the elevator and 'Benjamin Adams' followed her. They got in the narrow elevator and Rachel threw a somewhat bashful glance at him when she bent forward and chose the floor. But while they were moving up, his relaxed facial expression suddenly changed to a picture of tension. 

"Rachel," he began and looked nervously at the controls. "Maybe this is not such a good idea. It's late, and I don't want to disturb your family. You can give me the book tomorrow." Wasn't there a stop button for this thing? 

Rachel just looked at him in surprise and countered: "Nonsense, we're already here. And my father won't even notice us." 

At this moment, the doors of the elevator opened and rendered a further discussion useless - for in front of the elevator, on the small bridge cutting across the loft, stood Connor MacLeod with his sword drawn. 

* * *

"Oh, don't worry about the sword. He likes playing around with it," Rachel said insouciantly to her companion and dragged him with her out of the elevator. 

"Connor, may I introduce..." she began, but at that moment Connor barked at her: "Rachel!" She looked at him irritated and only now realized that he didn't have the sword in his hands accidentally. He was prepared for combat. 

"Come over here!" Never before had she heard him speak in that way, with such sternness. Not even when he caught her, 14 years old then, while she was looking through the memorabilia in his secret room... 

Rachel was confused, but before she could react, she caught a twinkle behind her from the corner of her eyes. "Benjamin!" Her companion had drawn a sword from his long coat and now grabbed Rachel's arm without taking his eyes from Connor. 

"Rachel, we will just step back into the elevator. Slowly, and please no heroics." 

Gradually, she understood what was going on. Her father had occasionally given her a hint at why swords were so important for Immortals. Benjamin slowly pulled her back towards the elevator cabin while Connor carefully stepped closer. He still had the Katana raised, ready to strike. "If you harm her, you're not safe anywhere on this planet!" he said in a low but threatening voice. 

"That's up to you," Benjamin replied, but suddenly he frowned. "Where did you get that sword from?" he asked his foe and stared at the fine ornaments of the Katana's handle. 

At this moment, a painful punch hit him in the stomach, and at the same time, Rachel bit him in the hand. The unexpected pain loosened his grip on the sword and it dropped to the floor with a rattle when Rachel shoved his hand against the elevator door frame. And then Connor was beside them and without hesitation thrust his Katana through Benjamin's chest. 

* * *

"Connor!" Rachel exclaimed. She had never before witnessed her adoptive father kill anyone. "You can't just kill him!" 

"He'll survive it," Connor returned dryly, while he wiped his Katana clean and put it back into its scabbard. Then he hugged Rachel vehemently. "Oh Rachel, my brave girl. You promised to listen to me." Back then, an eternity ago it seemed to Rachel, they had spoken about situations where it could be imperative for her to do exactly as he told her. 

"We did agree that you need to be careful with strangers, didn't we? That you mustn't bring simply anyone home with you." For a few years now they had to be careful with that, because Connor hardly passed as Rachel's father anymore. But on the other hand Rachel couldn't get used to introducing him as her older brother. Or her younger brother, soon. She hadn't considered that for a second when she brought Benjamin with her. 

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't know this," she sputtered. "He invited me for dinner, because of my birthday. And I just wanted to lend him a book, really." 

Connor hugged her again, and only now he became aware of the enormous tension that had affected him. During the confrontation he could ignore it, but now the adrenaline boost vanished. 

Rachel disengaged from his hug and looked at Mr. Adams, lying on the floor as if dead. "So he's like you, isn't he?" she requested a confirmation. 

Connor nodded. "Yes, he is." 

"What are we going to do with him?" She went down on her knees and examined his big wound with a mix of interest and disgust. A puddle of blood had formed around him, and Rachel could imagine that it would not be comfortable to awake in it. 

Connor picked up the other sword, then he turned to Rachel. "Who is he? Has he told you his name?" 

"Benjamin Adams." She looked up to Connor who stood there and eyed the body thoughtfully. 

"Rachel, you..." he began, but she immediately cut him off: "He is a friend, Connor, and you know that I can assess people quite well. He entered this house alive, and he will leave it exactly like that." 

She stood up, circled the body and grabbed the shoulders. Then she looked at Connor. "Need an invitation to lend me a hand?" 

* * *

He awoke with a jerk and drew a deep breath in his lungs. When he opened his eyes, he still found the tip of a sword pointing towards him. But his position had changed, he now lay on a couch on the lower level of the loft. Connor observed him distrustfully, but Rachel pushed past the sword and put a cup onto the couch table. "Like a hot chocolate?" she asked kindly. Then she turned to Connor: "Put away the sword, please. And then clarify what you have to clarify, will you? Preferably without further bloodshed." And having said this, she left the two men alone. 

Methos slowly sat up without taking his gaze from Connor. "A resolute girl," he commented dryly. "And she knows about us?" 

"What do you want from my daughter?" asked Connor. 

"Where did you get that sword from?" countered Methos with a question. Both their faces were deadpan. 

"I never found out who killed Ramirez," Methos continued. "But his sword is unique. You having it probably means we're not friends." 

Connor stared at him, surprised. Was it a trick? But then the stranger would still need to know Ramirez's sword. 

"You knew him?" he asked cautiously. 

"We were friends," Methos answered and laughed sarcastically. "In the end." 

Then he continued: "Listen, you may be in the better position right now. But since I still have my head, it seems you don't want to kill me. And if you change your mind now, you'll need to destroy the whole loft because I'm not going to surrender easily. So let's just skip over that part, and I'll not strain your hospitality anymore." 

"I didn't kill him," countered Connor. 

"No, I assume you just found the sword," Methos said, and the irony was clearly audible. 

"Indeed, I found it," Connor replied, and Methos realized from his voice that he was serious. "Beside the decapitated body of Ramirez. I was hunting when the Kurgan destroyed my home and defeated Ramirez in combat." 

That made Methos fall silent. The Kurgan... Yes, he had to admit that that sounded credible. Ramirez had never known when to back away from a fight. And he had a fondness for starting a quarrel with people like the Kurgan. Hadn't there been that fight in China once...? 

Methos nodded and asked then: "And you are...?" 

Connor lowered the sword, but he didn't put it away. "Rupert Wallingford," he introduced himself. 

That seemed to amuse his visitor. "She called you 'Connor'," he commented. "As far as I know, Ramirez disappeared in Scotland. And Graham spoke of a certain stubborn Scottish Captain once. Let's see, that wouldn't perchance be Connor... MacLeod?" 

Methos cautiously took a sip of the hot chocolate and watched the other Immortal from the corner of his eye. If he was right with his assumption, it was probably over. This Connor MacLeod was a man of honor, according to reports. You could get by with those as long as you knew which buttons to push. 

"In this time, in this place, I'm Rupert Wallingford just as you are Benjamin Adams." 

Methos nodded; apparently they both knew how the game was played. At that moment Rachel entered the room. Methos smiled at her and stood up. "Ok then, time to go." 

"Did you put this little misunderstanding straight?" Rachel asked. She looked from one Immortal to the other, but neither of them showed a reaction. 

"Benjamin, I'm sorry," she turned to him. "I mean, what I did in the elevator..." 

"Never mind," he replied. "It was my fault, I should have reacted differently. But things like that happen when two of our kind meet." 

He closed the coat over his blood-soaked shirt and looked at Connor expectantly. Finally, he added: "You don't want to send me out into the cruel city without my sword, do you?" 

Without a word, Connor reached behind him and tossed the sword over. Methos stashed it away in his coat. Then he nodded to Rachel. "We'll surely meet again." 

He had almost reached the door of the loft when he turned around again. "I'm interested: Where in Scotland is Ramirez buried?" 

Connor didn't say a word when he followed him out into the narrow hall. He closed the door behind him before he said: "Just so we understand each other: As much as we may chat, I don't know you, and I don't give my trust away so easily. So you better stay away from Rachel!" 

"She means much to you," Methos stated. "Although she isn't your own child." 

"Exactly," Connor confirmed. "You better take no risks." 

Methos nodded in agreement and turned towards the elevator. 

"Adams!" He turned to Connor again. "If you behave yourself, I might show you the grave one day." 

Methos nodded, and Connor turned around and went back into the loft. 

* * *

Methos was on his way down Hudson Street to the next subway station. Suddenly, he heard fast steps behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Rachel approaching. She was breathing heavily when she finally reached him. She gave him a large leather-bound book. "The _Historia Francorum,_ " she said. 

Methos smiled. "Thank you." 

She looked at him. "I don't know much about the whole Immortal thing, but I'd be glad if you two could get along with each other. Without bloodshed." 

"Should be no problem," Methos replied. "At least as long as he doesn't see us like this." 

Rachel laughed. "He hasn't fully realized yet that I'm grown-up now." 

For a while they just looked silently at each other. Then Rachel quickly stepped forward, breathed a kiss onto his cheek and turned away. Methos looked after her for a few seconds before he set off on his way home. What a strange evening... 

  
_\- THE END -_

* * *

Notes:   
I wrote this story very spontaneously. In Endgame it was mentioned that Connor knew Methos and that he once told him how much Rachel meant to him. And somehow I had this image in my mind: Rachel picks up Methos somewhere and brings him home to introduce him to her father. And Methos goes with her, not knowing that he is entering the house of an Immortal. While writing the story, I added the element that Methos might recognize Ramirez' sword. 

And if you are wondering who the heck Odolff is: The Watcher Chronicles mention him as mentor of Auberon, the unfortunate Immortal who was run over by Kalas in "Finale, Part 1". I just chose him because I wanted Methos to research the trace of an old opponent and thought a Frankish name might be fitting. After all, I had to get Methos somehow into that library. :-) 

With thanks to...   
...the proof readers of the translation: Adrienne and Tirnanog   
...the beta readers of the original story: Aisling, Anja and Birgitt 

_written: 24 Jan 2004_

* * *

© 2004-5 \+ emailE + '">'   
Please send comments to the author! 

15/01/2005 

* * *  
  
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